


Static

by hullosweetpea



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Domestic, Christmas, Fluff, Holidays, Knitting, M/M, New Year's Eve, Socks, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-06 05:48:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5405327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hullosweetpea/pseuds/hullosweetpea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cute single sock looking for adorning mate. Tall, blue and black striped, 'Made with love by: Anna' patch. Found in dryer six. If yours call 913-555-9716.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Static

**Author's Note:**

> FF.net to AO3. I was browsing through Hobby Lobby and came across a sign that said: Cute single sock looking for an adoring mate. And then underneath it had cute clothes pins to put single socks on. I turned to my sister and said “I can make a story out of this.” And from there it has grown to a four part series.

Static  
  
Dean closed the door to his house with a sigh. He had put in a long day at work and he had wanted to just go home, but he had to go to the laundry mat. He was down to two shirts and a pair of jeans and his washer broke down two weeks ago. Until he received his pay check next week the laundry mat was his only option.

  
     Which would have been fine and dandy if the washer hadn't eaten his quarters and if he hadn't had to hold his wet laundry for fifteen minutes as he waited for a dryer. Who knew Thursday night was such a popular time to do laundry? As it was, Dean just threw his dry clothes back into his bag and resolved to fold them later.

  
     He walked into his bedroom and tossed the bag on his bed. Winter was beginning to settle on Lawrence and after his day all he wanted to do was sit on his couch and watch Netflix. He opened his fridge to grab a beer and looked to see if anything edible was in there. He moved a carton of eggs and a half gallon of milk to find some leftover vegetable soup from Monday. Seeing as he really didn't feel like cooking he grabbed the bowl and popped it in the microwave.

  
    Dean walked into his living room and turned on his laptop. The familiar background of Sam grumpily wearing moose antlers with Dean's arm slung around Sam's shoulders popped up. Dean navigated to his Netflix list and browsed through it. The microwave beeped and Dean left the living room to grab the steaming bowl and a spoon. He nestled down on the couch and started to watch Doctor Who. Charlie had suggested the show after the two bonded over Star Trek and after Dean admitted his guilty pleasure for sci-fi. As Rose and the Doctor ran from store front mannequins Dean sighed. The holidays always made him feel lonelier and he personally hated the overly cheery season more for it. The rest of the year he was perfectly content hooking up at bars, but there was something about the time between Thanksgiving and New Year's Day that made him long for something permanent. Someone who would have been home when Dean got back from the laundry mat, possibly with a hot meal. Or would have gone with him so he hadn't been so damn bored. Regardless, by the time the episode and his soup were done he was in an odd mood. A particularly sappy one he refused to ever admit. He walked into his bedroom, a yawn passing through his lips, and caught a glimpse of his bag full of waded up, wrinkled, but at least clean, laundry. "Son of a bitch," he mumbled as he ran a hand through his hair. He tossed the bag to the floor and stripped down to his boxers. The laundry could wait a couple of more hours.

  
                 -o-O-o-

  
The blaring, incessant beeping from his alarm clock woke him. Dean sat up and ran his hands over his face, rubbing away the sleep. He turned off the alarm so it would _stop_ _god damn_ beeping and looked at the time. 7:45. He had fifteen minutes to make it to work. Damn alarm clock had gone off for fifteen minutes straight and he hadn't even heard it.

  
    He must have been more tired than he thought.

  
    He crawled out of bed and promptly tripped over his laundry bag. Dean swore and opened it, grabbing the first set of clothes he could find before pulling them on. He rushed to the kitchen and grabbed a lone Pop Tart from when Sam had visited last and thanked God that he had a coffee maker that was programmed to make coffee. He poured some in a mug, downing it black and quickly, before shoving the Pop Tart in his mouth and grabbing his keys. He was out the door by 7:52.

  
   He had eight minutes.

  
   He could make it.

  
   Do to being late(ish) at least once a week Dean had an emergency route that only had two stops signs and one stop light.

  
   He pulled in at 7:59 blaring Led Zeppelin.

  
   "Cuttin' it a bit close there ain't ya?"

  
   Dean grinned as he stepped out of his car. "C'mon Bobby. You know I'll always make it fine."

  
   Bobby scoffed and playfully smacked Dean's shoulder as he passed him. "Sure ya idjit."

  
    Dean clocked in and grabbed his coveralls from his locker. As he lowered his feet into the pant legs a sock fell. "What the hell?"

  
     It was long, a bit lumpy, with uneven blue and black stripes.

  
     Dean picked it up and it felt soft. He didn't know much about crafts and hobbies or whatever, but he definitely knew it wasn't store bought. A few ends poked out, along with a few knots, and it looked knitted. Or crocheted. Dean couldn't tell the difference. At the top of the sock was a small, sewn in patch. The words, 'Made with Love by: ANNA', were printed in blue and the ‘o’ in love was a heart. Definitely homemade.

  
   Dean tried to think of when he might have picked up this odd and clearly not his sock when it hit him: Sam.  
   The giant moose had used the duffel Dean had used to carry his laundry in the last time he visited. And wasn't his girlfriend crafty or something? He couldn't remember her name at the moment, but maybe it was Anna. Dean shoved the sock in his pocket and pulled his phone out to call his brother.

  
    After the third ring Sam picked up. "Hello?"

  
    "Is your girlfriend's name Anna?"

  
    There was a loud yawn at the other end. "No, it's Jessica why?"

  
   "Did you ever date an Anna?"

  
   "There was Amy and Amelia."

  
   Dean sighed exasperated. "I thought your girlfriend did crafts and stuff."

  
    "She bakes cookies Dean. Why did you call me at eight in the morning to discuss the hobbies of my past and current girlfriend?"

  
    "I found a random sock in my laundry."

  
    "How did that happen?"

  
   "That's why I'm asking you. I had go to the laundry mat because my washer's broken, so I used the duffle bag you borrowed-"

  
    "You went to a laundry mat?"

  
    "Yeah, but I didn't-"

  
    "Dean that's obviously where you picked up the sock."

  
   " _Gross_ , I have a stranger's sock in my laundry."

  
   "What's it look like any way?"

  
   "Why?"

  
   "You asked if my girlfriend's name was Anna, right. So there must have been some kind of label, right?"

  
   "Um..yeah. It's obviously a guy's sock, or I guess it could be a tall chick's, but it's got blue and black stripes. It's homemade and has a patch thingy that says made with love by Anna."

  
    "What are you going to do with it?"

  
    Dean shrugged even though Sam couldn't see it through the phone. "Toss it I guess. The owner probably already has with theirs."

  
   "I don't know. They might be looking."

  
   "Why? It's just a freaking sock."

  
   "Someone made it for them. There could be some sentimentality."

  
    Dean sighed. "What do you want me to do? Put up found posters for the sock at the laundry mat?"

  
    "Where exactly did you find it?"

  
    "It fell off my shirt when I tried to put on my coveralls this morning."

  
   "I bet it was in the dryer. Static electricity and all. What dryer did you use?"

  
   "Six I think."

  
   "Good, add that to the sign too."

  
   "Were you being serious? Because I was joking. I'm not going to be making signs. It's. A. Freakin'. _Sock._ "

  
    "Dean, someone put a lot of time and love making that sock and I'm sure someone's missing it."

  
    He ran his hand down his face. "I have to work. I'll talk to you later."

  
   "Dean-"

  
   He tapped end call, cutting Sam off. He put his phone back in his pocket and looked at the sock. He stared at it before shoving it back in his pocket with a scoff. It was just a sock.

  
                -o-O-o-

  
Dean couldn't believe he was doing it. Here he was, taping a Sharpie marked sign above the dryer the sock had supposedly escaped out of. He wasn't even going to do it. He had even held the sock above his trash can and everything, but as he was about to let it drop he remembered Sam's words and felt guilty.

  
     Damn chick flicky little brother.

  
    Instead he pulled out a Sharpie and a piece of paper and wrote up a quick sign.

  
      _Cute single sock looking for adorning mate. Tall, blue and black striped, 'Made with love by: Anna' patch.  Found in dryer six. If yours call  913-555-9716_ _._

  
    It wasn't much, and weirdly enough sounded like a dating site bio, but he could at least say he tried. Dean asked the manger if it would be alright to put the sign up and he just rolled his eyes and handed him the Scotch tape. And reminded him there was a lost and found for these kind of things. He quickly put it up and didn't stay to admire his work. He had done his part, now all he had to do was wait for the owner.

  
     If anything, Dean thought they'd claim it quickly and then this whole sock fiasco would be behind him. But that wasn't the case. After the first few days he didn't think anything about it, but after the first week he almost felt bad for the sock. Almost. He checked at the laundry mat to see if the sign was still up when he went to do a load of towels, but it was still there. By the time he had his washer fixed and running smoothly no one had laid claim to the wayward sock. The sock had become such a permanent fixture on top of his dresser that when the unknown number called him he didn't think anything of it. "Hello?"

  
     "Um...yes. Hello." The voice was deep and a bit gruff. "I was wondering if you still had that sock?"

  
    "Are you the owner?"

  
    "Yes. Is there any possible way we could meet up so you could return it to me?"

  
   "You want the sock that bad?"

  
    "If it's going to be any trouble I can just give you my address so you can mail it."

  
   Dean half smiled. "No, it's fine. I'll text you my address. You can come by tonight if you want."

  
    "Thank you."

  
    "Hey wait. Can you bring the other one? Just so I know it's going to the right person." Dean blushed.

  
    "Of course."

  
   "Cool. Um..bye I guess."

  
   "Good bye."

 

 It was the weirdest phone call Dean had ever participated in. He texted the unknown number his address and added him to his contacts as 'Sock Guy'. For practical reasons of course. It wasn't just because he thought the guy's voice was hot or anything.

  
    Dean pocketed his phone and went back to shaping ground hamburger into patties. It had been awhile since he made hamburgers and he was having the worst craving. He just placed them on the grill situated inside his kitchen's island when there was a brisk knock on his door. He quickly washed his hands and made his way to his front door and pulled it open.

  
     Damn, the guy was even better looking than he sounded.

  
    He had dark tousled hair, popping blue eyes, a bit of stubble, and his hands buried deep in the pockets of a slightly too big trench coat.

  
    "Are," Dean swallowed. "Are you the sock guy?"

  
    He smiled. "Yes. Could I come in? It's cold."

  
    "Uh, yeah, of course." Dean stepped aside and the stranger stepped in. "I didn't think you would be this quick. You must really love that sock."

  
    "Actually, I live two blocks from here in the apartment complex."

  
    Dean led the stranger to the kitchen and gestured to a bar stool against the counter. "Have a seat. You want a beer?"

  
    The stranger cocked his head to the side. "I thought you were just going to have me pick up my sock?"

  
    "Well, yeah, but I kinda wanna know the story behind it. That is if I'm not prying?"

  
    "Of course not".

  
    Dean looked at the man and swallowed again. "Let me go and get it." He disappeared off to his bedroom and picked the sock up. He reappeared in the kitchen and handed it to the other man.

  
   He smiled when Dean presented him with the sock. "There you are," he said softly and fondly. He reached into his trench coat's pocket and pulled out a near twin. He rolled the two together. "Back together again." He put them in his pocket.

  
     Dean grabbed two beers from the fridge and slid one across the counter to the stranger. "You can lose the coat. My name's Dean by the way."

  
    "Castiel," he said as he opened his beer.

  
    Dean flipped the burgers and opened his beer. "So who's Anna? I couldn't help but see it on the label."

  
    Castiel's eyebrows fell into a melancholy smile as he shrugged his coat off, revealing a white button down and blue argyle sweater. "She's my sister."

  
    Dean internally smiled. Not girlfriend. "She did a nice job on the socks. That takes a lot of skill."

  
    "She was always very good."

  
    Dean swigged his beer and tried to figure out a way to keep the conversation going. "The socks kinda look like you."

  
   Castiel grinned. "Anna was like that. She thought it was quite hilarious. She made them because, and I quote, 'you need more fun socks.'"

  
    "She sounds cool. Does she still make you fun socks?"

  
    The glow in Castiel's face faded again. "Unfortunately no. She died two years ago."

  
    Dean instantly felt uncomfortably. "Sorry man."

  
   "It's fine. You didn't know."

  
   Dean pulled the hamburgers off the grill and plated both of them up. He had been planning to put the other one in the fridge to have for dinner the next day, but Castiel looked like he needed it more. He pushed it in front of the other man.

  
   "I possibly couldn't. I've already imposed on your hospitality long enough," he insisted.

  
    "No, I don't mind. C'mon they're good," coaxed Dean.

  
    Castiel picked it up and tentatively took a bite. He smiled and continued eating.

  
    Dean grinned and ate part of his. "So, why did Anna start making socks? Aren't socks like, super complicated?"

  
    He paused and looked down at her plate. "She started knitting when she learned she was pregnant." He paused and grinned. "But she refused to make anything baby related. She said it was too cliché. Instead she made scarves, hats, and socks. She even made tea cozies."

  
     Dean smirked. "I like her style."

  
    Castiel nodded. "My socks were her last completed project. She died from complications due to child birth. The child didn't make it either." He let loose a long sigh. "When I lost that sock I freaked out." He looked up at Dean. "Pretty weird huh?"

  
    "Naw, they're important to you."

  
   "I hadn't even noticed at the beginning since those socks aren't even supposed to be machine washed or dried. Those were her last words to me: 'Castiel, if you put those socks in the freakin' washer or dryer I will hunt you down and gag you with them.'" He rolled his eyes with a sad shake of his head. "She was a bit overdramatic during her pregnancy. Still, I followed her words. I wouldn't put it past her to haunt me to make sure I followed those directions. I normally keep them with the others."

  
    Dean raised an eyebrow. "Others? I thought you said those were the only ones she made you."

  
   The tops of Castiel's ears turned pink. "After she died I didn't want to throw out her knitting supplies, so I learned. I only ever make socks though."

  
   "You must feel closer to her when you knit, don't you," said Dean quietly.

  
    Castiel's eyebrows knitted together. "Why would you say that exactly?"

  
    It was Dean's turn to blush. "It's why I cook and bake so much. My mom used to, but after she died I hoarded all her recipe cards with her handwriting and learned how to make them. I feel closer to her then."

  
    Castiel nodded. "Yeah, I do." There was a lull of awkward silence. "I should probably go. You have been more than kind to me. Thank you for returning the sock and for the hamburger. You do know your way around a kitchen."

  
    "Thanks," Dean said with a cocky grin.

  
    Castiel shrugged his trench coat back on. "Good bye Dean."

  
    He gave him a short half wave. "Bye Cas."

  
    He left, Dean still smiling.

  
              -o-O-o-

  
Dean was pretty sure that after a week he still shouldn't be missing that damn sock. But maybe it was actually he missed its owner a hell of a lot more. He had gone back to the laundry mat and taken down the sign, the only indicator now that the incident even took place was the newly renamed contact in his phone. As he walked into his house, arms full of groceries, he thought about how it would be to spend the holiday season with Castiel. It would certainly make enduring the Christmas sales before Thanksgiving even passed, easier. So many times Dean's finger hovered over the call option, or begin a text only to delete it. It just seemed inappropriate to him to try and hit on a guy who really only wanted the last present his dead sister ever gave him back. The doorbell rang and Dean prayed to sweet baby Jesus, who was already in his manger on a few of his neighbors' lawns, it was not carolers. Obnoxious Christmas advertisements he could handle, carolers before Thanksgiving he could not. There was a line and he wouldn't put it passed anyone to cross it. So when he saw Castiel's electric blue eyes he was both confused and gob smacked.

  
    Castiel's eyes lit up as he grinned when Dean opened the door. He was wearing the same trench coat, but this time he had a blue scarf knotted at his throat. His cheeks were chapped a pink-red from the cold. "Hello Dean," he said, the words forming frosty puffs in the air.

  
    "Cas...what brought you here?"

  
    He blushed and pulled a hastily wrapped package out of his trench coat. "I wanted to thank you properly." He handed it to Dean.

  
    His fingers absentmindedly toyed with the ribbon holding it together.

  
    "It's not much..., but, um," he coughed.

  
   "Why don't you come inside," he said, stepping aside.

  
    He turned away quickly. "No, I should really go."

  
   "I insist. It's freaking cold out here and I have hot chocolate." When he was still situated on the front step Dean rolled his eyes and grabbed Castiel's hand to drag him into the house. "Don't mind the mess. I just brought the groceries in."

  
   He unknotted his scarf and shoved it into his coat pocket before hanging it up on a hook. He was in a green sweater with small white stripes at the collar today.

  
     Dean pulled out milk and poured it into two mugs, setting each in the microwave and pressing the beverage button twice. He sat the package on the island. "Should I open this now?"

  
    "Only if you want to." He rubbed the back of his neck. "To be honest I never really planned to be here when you did."

  
    "How come?"

  
    Castiel didn't answer, but instead absentmindedly chewed at his bottom lip. Dean couldn't help but wish he could be doing that to him right then.

  
    Dean undid the bow and lifted some of the paper away. Nestled inside the white tissue paper was a pair of socks that mirrored Castiel's sweater: the same deep shade of green with thin white stripes running through it. He lifted one up, rubbing the pads of his fingers again the soft yarn, and couldn't help but wonder if Castiel's sweater would feel that soft too.

  
    He immediately blushed. "It's nothing special, I just made it from leftover yarn. I started making this sweater a year and a half ago, but gave up and just stuck to socks. I've picked it back up over the passing months, but never really thought I’d finish. After you returned my sock to me I finished it that weekend. I had a skein and a half leftover, so I thought I could at least try and return the kind favor you paid me. I don't know if they'll fit, but-"

  
     "Cas," Dean interrupted.

  
     "Yes."

  
     He leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "I love them."

  
     Castiel was blushing furiously.

  
     The microwave beeped.

  
    Dean slipped the socks on, which fit pretty well, and grinned. "You still want that hot chocolate?"

  
    He beamed up at Dean, slipping off his shoes to reveal he was wearing the blue and black striped socks. "Yes."

  
    Dean opened the microwave and took out the two steaming mugs and poured in chocolate mix. As he stirred it in, he smiled. Maybe he would have someone to spend the holidays with this year. And the remaining three hundred sixty five days after.

 


	2. Knit One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first holiday: Thanksgiving

Knit One

 

“Those are so adorable Dean! Where did you get them?”

 

Dean looked over his beer and glanced towards Jess as she snuggled closer into Sam’s side. “Get what?”

 

She pointed at his feet. “Your socks. They look so soft.” She placed her hand on Sam’s chest and looked up at him. “You could use a pair. You always freeze me with your big feet in bed.”

 

Dean looked down and noticed he was wearing the dark green socks Castiel had given him only four days ago. _Four days_ , he thought to himself. The rest of that night had gone well, Cas had stayed for a second cup of hot chocolate and a warm slice of apple pie. Watching him eat that pie had been beautiful torture, to see those lips open up to wrap around the pieces; his tongue flicking out for stray crumbs and granules of sugar. Dean had spent most of that evening openly staring at the man across his counter, conversation slipping around him like a warm embrace. When it was time for Castiel to go he repeated for the third time the care instructions for his socks, but Dean had silenced him with a quick peck to the cheek again and he left a blushing mess.

 

Dean couldn’t remember the directions for the life of him and Cas had even told him previously when he was telling his story about Anna. If there was any upside to this it was that there would be a reason to call or text him, because Dean had no idea what they were to each other. Neither had mentioned it, but Cas _had_ made him socks and Dean _had_ kissed him. No lips or tongues had made contact, but still, there was contact. He assumed Cas was in to him because he made him socks, hadn’t brushed him away when he kissed him both times, and his blush afterwards was a fierce shade of vermillion. Regardless, he had no idea if they were dating, which he highly doubted at this point, or if they were even going to attempt to date. Or, possibly, the guy made the socks out of the kindness of his heart and tactfully didn’t say anything about Dean’s impromptu gestures of affection.

 

_Dammit Dean! Stop with the self-loathing. You saw the guy, both of you were grinning like idiots the whole night. And if he didn’t like you he wouldn’t have stayed over both nights. Just call him already! Ask him out. Do_ something!

 

His subconscious had a brilliant point, but he would have to get back to that. Right now…

 

Dean sat his beer bottle down on the in table next to the recliner. “Um…a friend made them.”

 

“Ooh! Do you think they could make a pair for Sam?”

 

“Um,” he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I don’t know. I can talk to them, but…”

 

“Was it Anna?”

 

Dean glared at Sam, but Jess pounced on the morsel of information. “Are you dating someone Dean?”

 

“No, at least not right now.” He picked up his beer and pointed it accusingly at Sam. “And no, it was not Anna.”

 

“Who is Anna anyway, Dean?”

 

He sighed and caved in to keep both of them quite. “Cas’s sister.”

 

Sam perked up. “So you _did_ find the owner of that sock, didn’t you?”

 

“The blue and striped one?”

 

Dean face palmed. “You told Jess?”

 

“You couldn’t even remember her name when you called to ask me if the sock was mine.”

 

“Really Dean?”

 

“It was early in the morning, I was already late to work, and I was in denial. Cut me some slack.”

 

“If you let me even have a chance at the pie, maybe.”

 

“You have a chance. You don’t need to ask.”

 

“Yes, I do. Sam told me you inhale the stuff.”

 

“I just sample a bit of each.”

 

“Dean, you once ate two whole pies.”

 

“What Sam is failing to inform you is that they were only six inches in diameter. Baby pies, not even full size.”

 

Jess laughed and Sam frowned at Dean. “Still, did you give Cas back the sock?”

 

“And more importantly did you really make that sign Sam was telling me about too,” she added.

 

“Yes I made the sign and yes I gave it back to him.”

 

“Anything else,” Jess leaned forward and grabbed at Dean’s toes. “And does it have to do with these pretties covering your toes?”

 

Dean scowled at Jess’s cutesy description, most likely used to rile him up. “He made them from me after I returned his sock. No big deal.”

 

“No big deal, that’s what you’re going to use to describe a guy knitting you a pair of socks?” Jess glanced between Dean and the socks on his feet.

 

“He said it wasn’t. He just used left over scraps from the sweater he made himself.”

 

Sam nodded. “Uh huh. What does the sweater look like?”

 

“Kinda like my socks. Same dark green, same stripes across the collar.”

 

Sam and Jess exchanged a matching set of looks.

 

Dean looked between the young couple. “What?”

 

“Have you talked to him since then?”

 

“No.”

 

Jess shook her head. “Dean, what are we going to do with you?”

 

“I’d say we put him to work mashing potatoes.” Ellen stood in the doorway holding a potato masher out.

 

“Ellen, I already made the pies,” he pointed out.

 

“And while you’re in the kitchen you can check them too. Up and atta’em boy. Don’t leave all the cooking to me.” Sam chuckled as Dean scowled at him. Ellen pointed the masher at Sam. “And don’t think this gets you out of kitchen duty either. I need someone to help with the salad.”

 

Dean took the masher from Ellen’s grasp as he passed and walked into the kitchen. He turned to his left and saw Bobby stirring something on the stove. “She got you in here too?”

 

“We both know better than to go against her.” He shrugged and went back to stirring.

 

Sam came in with Jess following. She stood in the doorway as she watched everyone else go about their tasks. “Is there anything I can do to help Ellen?”

 

She took the spoon from Bobby and shooed him away from the stove. “No hun, you’re the guest. You don’t have to do anything at all today ‘sides staying right there.”

 

The backdoor blew open and a blast of cold air and blonde staggered in. “Hey everyone I got the beer!”  


“Joanna Beth, I sent you out over an hour ago. Where have you been?”

 

Jo smiled and sat the plastic bag on the counter. “Sorry Mom. I met someone at the store and is it alright if he has Thanksgiving with us?”

 

Ellen’s harsh look softened. “He’s not spending it with his family?”

 

Jo unwrapped her scarf and placed it on a hook. “He was going to buy a frozen turkey dinner. I couldn’t let him do that.” She looked at Dean with a mischievous glint in her eye. “And I don’t think he’s that much of a stranger anyway.”

 

Dean sat the masher in the bowl. “Jo _what_ did you-“

 

 

“Hello, I’m sorry if I’m intruding, but Jo wouldn’t take no for an answer.” Castiel walked over the threshold, cheeks the color of holly berries against the deep blue scarf with green flecks.

 

“Cas?”

 

He pulled off a matching pair of mittens and looked over at Dean. “Oh, hello Dean. Jo didn’t mention you.”

 

Sam’s face lit up. “This is Cas?”

 

Castiel’s face deepened in color. Dean sighed and began to smash potatoes. “Yes, this is Cas.”

 

“You told them about me?”

 

Dean lifted his foot in his direction. “They wanted to know about these.”

 

Jess grabbed Cas’s upper arm and dragged him in the direction of the living room. “Why don’t we go talk in here while they finish up? I really admire your work. Is there any chance you can make a pair for Sam…”

 

Dean jabbed the end of the potato masher into Jo’s side. “Hey, what was that for?”

 

“You know exactly what that’s for.”

 

Jo reached up on her tip toes to grab a basket from off the wall. “You’re the one who told me about him.”

 

“I didn’t think you’d go looking for him!”

 

“I did not. We just happened to be at the same place at the same time.”

 

“Anybody wanna fill me in on what’s going on or do you wanna keep me in the dark?” Ellen poured gravy in a tureen as she looked between the two.

 

“That’s Castiel. You know, the sock guy.”

 

Ellen raised her eyebrow. “Sock guy? Wasn’t that a couple of weeks ago?”

 

Sam cut up lettuce. “Yeah, but apparently he came back around to give Dean a pair of socks he made him.”

 

“Now ain’t that sweet.”

 

Dean splashed milk, butter, salt and pepper into the potatoes. “I hate you all.”

 

“No you don’t ya idjit. Jo, ya’d do better to get the rolls in the basket ‘fore your mother makes ya,” added Bobby.

 

Jo grabbed the pan of warming rolls from the oven and flipped it over, rolls toppling into the basket. Dean dolloped extra butter on to the potatoes and Sam finished up the salad. Ellen carried the turkey into the dining room and placed it in the center of the table. Jo pulled out a pumpkin pie and Dean side-stepped her to pull the pecan pie out behind her. Soon the table was bursting with golden turkey, thick, fluffy mashed potatoes, steaming rolls, dark gravy, the obligatory salad, sugar dusted pies, bacon laden green beans, crumbly stuffing, all surrounded by six plates, each with a swan napkin on top. Dean picked up his napkin between his thumb and index finger. “What’s up with the birds?”

 

“They’re cute aren’t they?” Jess smiled across from him. “My roommate in college taught me how to make them.”

 

Cas held his up and smiled. “You did a nice job, Jess. Have you seen the towels folded into elephants?”

 

She shook her head. “No. Swans are the only thing I know how to fold”

 

At the head of the table, Bobby looked down at the tiny swan folded on his napkin. He his lips quirked into a quick smile before he unraveled the napkin and laid it across his lap. “Y’all situated now?”

 

Ellen sat at the other head, to her left sat Castiel, Dean and Jo; Sam and Jess at her right. Dean glanced over to his right at Cas, who looked a bit nervous. He snuck his hand under the table and found his, only giving it a quick squeeze before letting it go. Cas didn’t turn his head, but his cheeks seemed to be a bit more pink than usual. Bobby was busy cutting up the turkey and talking to Jo about a man who had come into the Roadhouse. Sam and Jess were talking with Ellen about how domestic life was suiting them. Dean glanced over at Cas and this time he was anxiously rolling his fork between his fingers. Dean laid his hand over Cas’s hand. “Hey,” he said softly so the others wouldn’t notice. “Don’t worry. If anything those two do.” He pointed at Sam and Jess. “Ellen’s already tried to get out of me if Sam’s talked about rings yet.” He sighed and shook his head. “Honestly, it’s still early, but that could be because the giant moose didn’t tell us about her until they moved in with each other last June.”

 

Cas tilted his head. “How long have they been together?”  


“Six years this past October.”

 

“ _Six years_ ,” said Cas in shock.

 

Dean nodded. “Yeah, Sam had been dating a girl, Amelia, since junior year of high school and at the end of freshman year he asked her to move in and she said she’d rather move on. Sam was nice about it and she was too, but he was still devastated when it happened. He met Jess that fall and a coffee turned into a date, then another, excreta, excreta until he called me to tell me not only has he been dating a girl for almost six years, but that they’re moving in.” He shrugged. “I think he was afraid that something would go wrong, so he figured if we never knew about it, it would make it less painful _if_ something happened.”

 

“Didn’t you ever go out to visit him?”

 

Dean shook his head. “No, he always came out here for the holidays…and I’m not a fan of planes and Sam didn’t want me wasting so much money on gas to drive out to him.”

 

“You two lovebirds done chattin’?”

 

Both men looked away from each other and saw the bemused looks on everyone’s faces. “Um…sure, yeah,” blustered Dean.

 

Bobby nodded. “Anyway, hope you’re not offended Cas, but we ain’t the prayin’ type, so we’ll just skip over that bit.”

 

He bit his bottom lip. “No, that’s fine.”

 

“However, we do go around the table and say what we are grateful for before we dig in. I’ll start. I’m grateful that I’m still walkin’ around this earth even if I have to put up with these idjits,” he pointed at Sam and Dean. “And got to help raise them along with that rugrat,” he pointed at Jo, “with this woman.” He smiled at Ellen.

 

Jo grinned. “I’m grateful that there’s no canned cranberry sauce on this table.” The table erupted in laughter. Ellen mocking sent a look towards her daughter and Jo beamed back, all teeth.

 

“Alright, I’m grateful for…” Dean paused and his eyes glanced over at Cas. “I’m grateful for broken washers.”

 

“Aww,” gushed Jess.

 

Cas had a small smile on his face and his cheeks were dusted a light shade of pink. “I’m grateful for socks with labels.”

 

Sam and Jess looked at Dean and Cas with doe eyes, their lips in half formed ‘aww’s’. Ellen smiled. “I’m grateful to have y’all here, including you Cas.”

 

Sam grabbed Jess’s hand and looked her in the eye. “I’m grateful to have Jess in my life and I get to share her with all of you.”

 

She smiled at him. “I am too.” The couple leaned in for a kiss and Dean fake gagged causing Cas and Jo to erupt in muffled giggles and Sam to flip him the bird.

 

Bobby took a sip from his beer bottle. “Alright all of ya, let’s eat!”

 

The clinking of plates and silverware mingled with the happy conversation. Dean wasn’t completely focused, at least not on the conversation. He filled his plate until there was a second layer and it was clear to the edge before angling himself in his seat so he could keep his eyes on Cas. He watched as his blue eyes were hidden whenever he blinked, the way his Adam’s apple moved with each deep voiced word, the way his food disappeared between his lips just like the pie had all those days ago, how- “ _Dean_!”

 

He blinked. “What?”

 

Sam pointed at his chest. “I said you had some butter on your shirt.”

 

Dean looked down and indeed a particularly slippery sliver of butter had slide off of his bite of mashed potatoes and was making its way down the plaid of his shirt. “Dammit,” he muttered and he unfolded his swan napkin and began to rub at it.

 

“Don’t do that.” Cas’s fingers plucked the napkin from Dean’s fingers and began to pat at the stain. “Dab it, rubbing it will spread the stain.” He could feel Cas’s warm touch on his chest through his shirt.

 

“Where did you learn that?”  


Cas looked up at him and Dean was suddenly aware how close their faces were. “You pick up things when you have to hand wash knitted items. In a perfect world I’d have you take this off so it could soak, but I’d say this is good enough for now.” He placed Dean’s napkin next to his plate and resumed eating his turkey.

 

-o-O-o-

 

After the dinner plates were taken away, pie sliced, divided and devoured, and with full bellies, Sam and Jess announced they were heading out to take a drive through the outskirts of Lawrence. Dean waved at them from the porch as they left and when their rental car had pulled out of the driveway he turned to Cas. “They’re either going back to my place to have sex or they’re going to find a place to pull into and see if Sam’s moose body can handle the horizontal tango in the back of that bitty Prius.”

 

Cas tilted his head to the side. “How do you know?”

 

“As far as I can tell they haven’t done it since they got in yesterday and I doubt with all of Sam’s studying they’ve had time in a while.”

 

“Maybe Sam wanted to show Jess the area he grew up in.”

 

Dean tilted his head and let the last of his beer trickle out of his bottle and down his throat. “Maybe. I think it’s just a testament of how long it’s been since I’ve gotten laid. Even my baby brother is getting some.”

 

Cas’s ears turned pink. “Um…since Jo is asleep on the couch would it be too much of a hassle for you to drive me to my apartment.”

 

“Naw not at all. This was the only one I had anyway.” He sat the empty beer bottle on the porch ledge (Ellen would give him hell about it later, but _Cas_ ) and pulled his keys out of his jacket pocket. He walked across the crunching gravel drive and to the driver’s side of the Impala. He turned the car on and a mixed blast of cold and hot air assaulted him. The heavy thud and shake of the passenger door being opened and closed accompanied it and now Cas was inside with him. He pulled out of the drive and mindless drove through the streets following Cas’s directions, beyond that not much conversation was shared. As he pulled into a parking spot and threw the Impala in park he had enough of the tension between them. “You never texted me.”

 

Cas blinked. “What?”

 

Dean groaned and ran his hands through his hair. “I was hoping you would text me. I wanted to text you, but I didn’t know if you were interested and I didn’t want to seem overbearing. And then I remembered I already forgot how to wash the socks, so then I was going to use _that_ as an excuse, and then Jo friggen’ _brings_ you to Thanksgiving and _Christ_.” He leaned his head against the steering wheel of the Impala. “Just go; I’m fucking this up,” he mumbled.

 

“Dean, I wanted to text you as well, but I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to ruin my chance. I already thought I was overstepping when I made you the socks and ate pie with you, but I had to see you again. It was serendipity that Jo found me in the supermarket and invited me over, but let me tell you I don’t regret. Do we have a chance?”

 

He raised his head from the steering wheel and tilted his head to see Cas’s nervous face. “Yeah, yeah I think we do.”  Relief washed over Castiel and Dean couldn’t help but grin seeing written all over the other man’s face. “You know, this was kinda our first date.”

 

“I suppose it was, but maybe the pie could also be considered as such.”

 

“You know what though?”

 

“What?”

 

“We really should go on a real date?”

 

Cas beamed. “We should.”

 

Dean grinned. “I’ll text you later and see what you think.”

 

Cas pushed the passenger door open, letting in a rush of cold air. “I’ll talk to you later then.”

 

Dean reached over the bench seat of the Impala and grabbed Cas’s chilled hand. He gave it a gentle squeeze and felt the warmth from his hand transfer to Cas’s. “Yeah.” Dean let go and Cas slowly brought his hand to his side. He smiled and climbed out of the Impala. Dean watched as he walked towards the doors of his apartment building before opening them up to disappear. He felt something vibrate in his pocket and pulled out his phone, displaying the incoming text:

 

**_Cas: Thanks for today_ **

Dean smiled to himself as his thumbs flew over the touch screen to send the short message. He pressed send and smiled, this holiday season was shaping up to be far better than the last.

 

**_Dean: Anytime Cas, anytime_ **


	3. Purl Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part Three: Christmas. With lots of cute fluff.

Purl Two

 

**_Dean: When are you free?_ **

****

**_Cas: This Friday_ **

****

**_Dean: Do you wanna go on that date?_ **

****

**_Cas: I’d love to_ **

****

**_Dean: I’ll meet you at seven then. I’ll pick you up._ **

Friday snuck up on Dean and now the anticipation for his first, real, official date with Cas was hitting him hard. He didn’t want to do much, so the plan was to grab burgers at the Roadhouse (staying as far away from the bar and Ellen and Jo as possible) and then go ice-skating afterwards if Cas was up for it. The cold had settled heavy over Lawrence the last couple days and the weathermen were reporting it was looking like this winter was going to be the coldest it’s been in the last decade. He hadn’t seen Cas in a couple weeks, but they were keeping in close contact by texting every day. It was nice to hear the little text alert noise and sneakily pull it out of his pocket while he was at work and see what Cas had sent him. Bobby had gotten after him a few times, Dean had caught a glimpse of the old man’s face and he was smiling too. Apparently everyone in the family was ecstatic Dean had found someone.

 

As Dean geared up for his date he kept the chill in mind and added an extra layer to his usual outfit and the socks Cas had knitted him. Not so much because he _was_ going on a date with Cas, but because he wanted them to stay warm. It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact he was going on a (official) date with the maker. He let his beloved Impala warm up just a tad before he left to go down just a few blocks to Cas’s apartment complex. He parked his car against the curb and sent a quick text to him to announce his arrival. Less than a minute later Cas was coming out the door of the complex and down the sidewalk. The Impala rocked gently as he opened the door and shut it behind himself. “Hello Dean.”

 

He grinned back at Cas, the other man’s smile infectious. Cas was wearing a plush coat, and a matching pair of mittens and hat snuggly perched on top of his head. “Hi Cas. Did you make those?” He gestured to the hat and mittens.

 

“Oh,” he rubbed his hands together. “No, Anna made these as well. I am, however, working on another pair of mittens for myself. Something green to match my sweater.”

 

“And my socks,” added Dean.

 

Cas gave him a curious look, but his smile did not fade. “And your socks.”

 

Dean pulled away from the curb and out on to the grey asphalt. “So, that’s what you’ve been working on since I last saw you.”

 

“Among other things, yes.”

 

Dean raised an eyebrow. “What else have you been working on?”

 

Cas tilted his head. “I don’t know if I ever made it apparent, but I run an Etsy store. Since I’ve met you I’ve expanded out of just socks and I’ve been working on scarves and hats. I generally make them to order, but I have a few already made up for sale.”

 

“Oh, that’s cool.”

 

“Yes, well it works well to pay the bills. For some reason striped socks are in high demand.” Cas looked out the window. “So what are we going to do tonight?”

 

Dean turned the corner into a parking lot.  “Well, I figured we could have dinner here at the Roadhouse. The burgers may not be as good as mine, but they’re a close second.”

 

“Oh, are they?”

 

“Yes, but don’t you let Ellen here. She runs this place. After that I thought maybe we could go ice-skating.”

 

Cas’s eyes lit up. “I love ice-skating. I haven’t gotten to go in such a long time.”

 

Dean smiled back at him. “Then we can go afterwards.” He turned the car off and pocketed the keys. He waited for Cas to get out of the car before he opened the door to the Roadhouse and warm air and the salty smell of fried something hit him.

 

“They’re here,” shouted Jo.

 

Dean frowned. “What do you mean ‘they’re here’?”

 

She leaned on the bar with a smirk on her face, hair falling slightly forward. “Bobby told Mom about your hot date.” She turned her head and waved. “Hey Cas, nice to see you again.”

 

He looked slightly stunned. “You as well.”

 

“How did Bobby even figure out?”

 

“You kept making doe eyes at your phone. Bobby put two and two together. Plus, you ran into the door today at work.”

 

Dean turned red. “ _Joanna Beth_.”

 

“Dean Michael,” she teased right back.

 

“Ease up you two,” said Ellen as she entered in from the back with two baskets. “Go sit down and enjoy your date.” She handed them off to the boys and reached under the bar and pulled up two beer bottles. “I’ll carry these over.”

 

“Thanks, Ellen,” Dean said gratefully.

 

When Ellen’s back was turned Jo playfully stuck out her tongue and Dean copied her. Cas let out a low chuckle next to him and he reached out to squeeze his hand. Ellen set the beers down in a booth and she patted Dean’s cheek before heading back to the bar. Once she left Cas shucked off his coat and his mittens. “Are they always like that?”

 

“Yes,” said Dean pulling out a fry and stuffing it in his mouth.   


  
“I like them,” he said tersely. He picked up the hamburger and took a large bite out of it. Dean watched as Cas happily ate it. “I hate to tell you Dean, your burger may have a run for its money.”

 

Dean bit into his burger. “That’s what you think. Maybe you need to try mine again.”

 

Cas looked across to him and grinned. “Maybe I need too.”

 

A pleasant silence fell between them for a bit while the main focus was on the food in front of them. Dean swallowed the bite he was working on. “So, what do you do when you don’t knit?”

 

Cas shrugged and searched for crunchy fry in his basket. “I read.”

 

“Do you watch anything?”

 

“Not often.”

 

Dean grinned. “There are so many shows I want to introduce you too.”

 

“Maybe we can do that on our next date.”

 

Dean was about to respond when his phone went off. He saw that was it was Charlie and he pressed the ignore button. He was on a hot date for once, dammit, Charlie could wait. Apparently she could not wait because his phone went off again. He groaned and looked towards Cas. “Can I take this real quick? She’s being persistent.”

 

Cas nodded. “Of course. I don’t mind.”

 

Dean slide out of the booth and ducked into the hallway that lead to the bathrooms. “Charlie, this better be important.”

 

“ _Why didn’t you tell me you were dating again?_ ”

 

Dean groaned and ran his hand down his face. “Charlie I-“

 

_“I thought I was your best friend. I should know these things and not be told by Sam. I thought we were closer than that.”_

“I know, but I’m on a date with him, right now.”

 

_“Oh. Well when you get back you better tell me all about it. You owe me.”_

“Okay, alright, as long as you let me go right now.”

 

_“See you later, Winchester.”_

“You too, Bradbury.”

 

He hung up and walked back over to the booth where Cas sat. “Sorry about that. Ironically, my friend Charlie wanted to talk about you.”

 

“Me?”

 

“She was upset I hadn’t told her about you yet. She’s like a little sister to me and she was offended she heard from Sam first and not me.” Dean glanced at their mostly empty baskets. “Do you want to head out to the rink?”

 

Cas beamed and began to tug on his coat. “I’d love to.”

 

-o-O-o-

 

Dean thanked the teenager behind the counter and walked back over to Cas with their skates in hand. “You ready?” He placed the clunky, bright blue pair next to Cas’s striped socked feet and sat down on the bench next to him so he could unlace his boots.

 

He shoved his foot into one of the skates and pushed the plastic tab back until it snapped in place. “Yes, I’m really happy you brought me here.” He slipped the other one on just as easily and stood up shakily. “It should be fun.”

 

“Well, I’m glad you will. That’s the whole point of tonight, ya know.” Dean quickly kicked his boots off so he could slip on his rental skates to catch up with his date. He placed their shoes in a small locker and soon they were taking their first steps on the ice. The indoor rink had been decorated for Christmas with boughs of pine and holly strung up everywhere, red and gold ornaments hung from the ceiling along with snowflakes, and in the center on the back wall hung a massive wreath with a crimson bow.

 

Dean took his first few steps and looked behind to see Castiel clinging to the wall. “I thought you said you loved this?”  


“Starting’s the worst part. I always fall.” His feet slide forward and he tried to find a grip against the Plexiglas.

 

Dean turned around and glided towards Cas, but before he could reach him Cas had pushed himself away from the wall and was now gliding past Dean. “What happened to starting being the worst part?”

 

Cas beamed and turned so he was gliding back to Dean. He slowed down and slipped his mittened hand into Dean’s bare one. “It’s worth it when there’s someone there waiting for me.”

 

He felt his face heat up, but he just let his hand curl around Castiel’s and run his fingers against the yarn texture. Dean and Cas skated, connected by their hands, around the indoor rink. He observed the others around him, noticing the couples, the families, and the love-struck teenagers on first or second dates. A few lone stragglers skated in the middle, spinning and skating in patterns, while the rest comfortably turned left around the outside perimeter. Dean felt hot and sticky the longer they skated, and he swore Cas could feel his clammy hands regardless of his thick mittens. “You’re pretty good at this.” Dean was surprised; most of his dates he brought here either clung to the side or him.

 

“I used to go down to the ice skating rink in the summer and skate there on occasion. It was fun, but I was never serious about it. Just a way to pass the time.”

 

Dean nodded. “I used to go to this one river with Sammy when it got real hot and we had a rope swing and everything. We spent hours out there getting tanned and sunburnt.”

 

Cas smiled. “I bet you were the one who got burnt.”

 

“Only one time when I forgot my sunscreen and man did it hurt like a bitch. I was peeling for weeks.” He chuckled and Dean felt his heart swell. This man did things to him.

 

“Thank you for this. Tonight I mean.” Cas looked down at the passing ice below them. “It’s be a long time since I’ve had a ‘proper date’ and while the previous three times may not be titled as such, they certainly were just as entertaining. I promise to return the favor.”

 

“I’m hoping you would. I’d like another date.” The overhead speakers announced the rink was closing for the evening and the skaters began to head towards the exit. “I don’t have anything planned for New Year’s Eve. Normally I celebrate with everyone at the Roadhouse, but this year Jo’s already got a party lined up, Bobby and Ellen are taking it as a day off to rest, and Sam and Jess will be in Cali. I don’t know if you do anything, but if you don’t…it’s just an idea.”

 

Cas stepped off of the ice and on to the rubber flooring. “I’d like that. I normally spend New Year’s Eve the same way I spend any day. I used to spend it with my siblings, but we just…floated apart as a family after Anna.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought that up it’s not proper dating material to talk about.”

 

“No it’s fine. And as long as you’re okay with New Year’s I am too.”

 

“Then it’s a date.”

 

Dean and Cas walked back over to a bench with their shoes in hand as they pulled their feet from their skates. “I’m going to have blisters tomorrow.”

 

“I probably will too, but it was worth it.” Cas sat his skates together as he slipped on his pair of shoes.

 

Dean finished lacing up his boots and picked up his skates. “So, any plans for Christmas?”

 

He shrugged. “Not much. I was planning to Skype with Gabriel and perhaps eat some cookies.”

 

“Your family really doesn’t do holidays, does it?”

 

Cas picked up his skates and they walked over to the skate counter. “Not really. My parents live on the east coast, Gabe on the west, and I’m here in the middle. We send cards to each other.”

 

Dean sat his skates on the counter and the teenaged girl went to go put both of theirs up. “Why don’t you join us? We have a little Christmas Eve get together. It’s not much, but it’s certainly full of holiday cheer and all that other feelings crap. I may not be one for it all the time, but I do make exceptions.” Cas smirked. “What,” asked Dean.

 

“Ever since I’ve met you, you’ve been such a romantic.”

 

He crossed his arms and pouted. “Maybe only a little. I normally don’t do feelings.” The girl came back to the counter and giggled. Dean was exasperated. “What?”

 

She smiled mischievously and pointed it upwards. “Mistletoe.”

 

And indeed above them was a tiny spring of the white berried plant. Dean looked over at Cas and grinned before leaning down to kiss him.

 

Overall, it had been a successful night.

 

-o-O-o-

 

“Merry Christmas.” Jo opened the door with a slightly red face and a glass of egg nog in hand.

 

“Merry Christmas to you too,” replied Cas as polite as ever.

 

Dean let him step through the door first and Cas began to peel all his layers off. Jo leaned against the wall and took a sip of her egg nog. “My mom wants to talk with you in the kitchen. She says she didn’t get to talk to you much at Thanksgiving and she plans to rectify that.”

 

Cas looked between the two of them. “Should I be scared?”

 

Dean clapped him on the back. “No, she may be a bit rough around the edges, but that’s just the mama bear in her. You’ll be all right.” He placed a quick kiss on his temple.

 

Cas left the entrance and walked down the hallway.

 

“Go straight and turn left,” shouted Jo. She turned her attention back towards Dean. “This is the second holiday you’ve invited him to, when are you going to put a ring on it?”

 

Dean stomped the snow out of his boots and flipped off Jo. “I’m trying to be nice here. His family’s all spread out and everyone could use a little cheer around the holidays.”

 

She shut the door to keep the wind from blowing in heavy flakes of snow. “I know, but it’s like your heart grows three sizes over the holidays. Are you guys even official yet?”

 

“As in boyfriends?”

 

“What else would you be?”

 

“Honestly, we haven’t explicitly decided anything.” Dean placed his coat on the rack and kicked his boots off. “We’ve never sat down and had the conversation. We text a lot and we went on our first real date two weeks ago. We’ve hung out a bit too, but I guess it’s just slipped our minds.”

 

Jo sighed. “Winchester, you need to talk about this to him. Meeting the family and whatever is serious business. If anything, you’re beyond awkward dates and smack dab in the middle of ‘serious relationship’ territory. I just don’t want either of you to be hurt.”

 

“We won’t get hurt.”

 

She gave him a look, but she stepped away from the wall. “Let’s go to the kitchen. Mom’s got the egg nog in the fridge and the vegetable soup cooking on the stove.”

 

The smells wafting from the kitchen made Dean salivate and smile over the delicious food that was to come. The hearty, beefy smell of broth from the soup, the vanilla from delicate sugar cookies, the warm, floury smell of rolls in the oven. He stepped inside and saw Cas sitting at the bar talking to Ellen about some kind of knitting pattern. Dean sidled up to him and placed a hand on top of his. “She’s not giving you a hard time is she.”

 

Ellen frowned with a twinkle in her eye as she smacked Dean playfully with an oven mitt. “When have I ever given anyone a hard time?”

 

“How about that time when I was fifteen and backed Bobby’s truck into a pole when I was trying to practice for my driver’s test?”

 

“Those are two entirely different things and you know it.”

 

Dean stepped over to the cupboard, grabbed two mugs and opened the fridge. “Where’s Bobby?”

 

“Asleep in his chair. His arthritis kept him up last night.” Ellen opened up the oven and pulled the rolls out.

 

He picked up the ladle in the punch bowl and filled both mugs up with creamy egg nog. “Man’s age is finally catching up to him.” He shut the fridge and handed one of the mugs to Cas.

 

“Thank you, Dean.” He smiled up at him as he accepted the mug.

 

Dean took a sip and was delighted to find out there was rum in it. “You’re welcome.”

 

Jo jumped up on the counter and grabbed a roll, tearing it apart in her hands. “How much longer until the foods all done?”

 

“It pretty much is. Ya wanna wake up Bobby for me?” She turned around and frowned. “Joanna Beth, we put food on that counter.”

 

“I know, I know and we eat the food that goes on the counter.” She shoved a bit of roll in her mouth. “I’ll be back.” She darted out of the kitchen for some other part of the house.

 

“Dean, can you get the bowls down for me,” asked Ellen as she turned the fire off the soup.

 

“Sure thing.”

 

“It smells wonderful, Ellen,” added Cas.

 

“Thank you. You know, while you’re here I can see if I have any old photos of Dean if you want to see them.”

 

“Ellen, please don’t do that.” Dean lined up multi-colored bowls on the counter.

 

She put her hands on her hips. “I can do what I damn well please, Winchester.”

 

“Smells good, honey,” said Bobby as he entered the kitchen, followed by Jo. He bent down and gave her a quick kiss and whispered something in her ear.

 

She smacked him, but had a smile on her face. “All right everyone, grab a bowl and fill it up.”

 

Dean passed a bowl to Cas. “We go sit in the living room and watch Christmas movies.”

 

Cas smiled. “What ones do you watch?”

 

“You can pick since you’re the guest,” piped up Jo.

 

“Well, I’ve never gotten to see _A Christmas Story_ in its entirety.”

 

Dean looked shocked. “You haven’t?”

 

“No, I’m afraid not.”

 

“Then that’s settled. We’re watching it.”

 

Bowls were filled to the spilling point with chunks of potato, carrot, green beans, corn, beef, swimming in dark, steamy broth and the basket full of rolls was brought into the living room to sit on the coffee table and were available as needed. Dean put the DVD in and he and Cas claimed a loveseat that was at the perfect angle to watch the movie. Dean had felt he had never had a more satisfied Christmas Eve and when the food was gone and he was resting his head on Cas’s chest, he didn’t even realize when he fell asleep.

 

-o-O-o-

 

He woke up with sore and cramped legs and a pair of arms wrapped around his chest. He looked up and saw Cas’s face illuminated by the incoming sunlight. He poked him and Cas whined, but woke up. “What time is it,” he said with a yawn.

 

“7:03. We must have fell asleep last night.”

 

Cas stretched far above his head. “I need to get home.”

 

“Are you sure.” Dean rolled over and sat up. “You can stay for breakfast.”

 

Cas leaned forward and kissed Dean. “Alright, that sounds lovely.”

 

Dean beamed and leaned forward to kiss him again. “Merry Christmas, Cas.”

 

He smiled back at him. “Merry Christmas.”


End file.
